


Vengeance. Justice. Fire. Blood.

by Gabrielique (Sacchan90)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/M, M/M, POV First Person, every chapter with a different POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:24:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sacchan90/pseuds/Gabrielique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It happened like this: Europe has been conquered by England, the countries tried to stand up, but at the first sign of failure, most of them turned their back to the rebellion and made another oath to England, making everything useless. We tried, we failed and now England demands blood for what our countries did almost a century ago.</i><br/>[ Also knows as The Miserables Games; an AU where Europe is controlled by England and President Javert, Eponine and Gavroche are tributes, Enjolras and Grantaire are their mentors (and one is actually planning a new European Revolution while the other drinks too much) and Fantine is their escort (and also in love with the Mayor Valjean) but she’s really just a baby sitter. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and I have no beta, so the mistakes are all mine.  
> The characters belongs to Victor Hugo, who is to blame for my broken heart.
> 
> Every chapter has a different point of view, the first one is Eponine.  
> Enjoy!

The sun is strong, hot as hell below, but it's not something you can care about, not today. Today you have to care about what the mirror shows, because today the whole Europe will see you and -for God's sake- you must be the most beautiful thing they ever saw and try not to look as poor as you are.

  
The mirror is not gentle with me, my hair are a mess, my green dress is old and the color is fading in more than one spot, I am too thin and the clothes are huge around me, the belt on my waist only help to show how skinny I am. I don't need to look fragile, small, weak, not today, but I can't change who I am.   
Today is the Reaping, today in whole Europe children will be chose to go to an arena and fight to death.  
And why?   
Because we are too damn miserable to be considered human beings. For our Capitol -curse the city of London and or the people of England- we are rebellious animal, for them we are toys for their entertainment. 

  
It happened like this: Europe has been conquered by England, the countries tried to stand up, but at the first sign of failure, most of them turned their back to the rebellion and made another oath to England, making everything useless. We tried, we failed and now England demands blood for what our countries did almost a century ago.   
The country still exist –more or less- and every year the biggest cities of a country pick up 8 name, 4 boys and 4 girls, and send them to the capital of the country where, on the day of the Reaping, one boy and one girl are chosen as tribute and sent to fight to death in an arena in Ireland. 

Three months ago I was picked up as one of the possible female tribute of Paris and today I can only hope that I will survive, that my name will not be spoken, but seriously, things like that doesn't happen, not to me.   
I have worst thing to think about that my own destiny: my little brother, Gavroche, was chosen as one of Paris' tribute as well and this breaks my heart. I can face death with a smile, I almost do it every day in the streets, stealing bread and dealing stuff I am not supposed to own, but I can't stay at home and watch my little brother dies in a stupid game.   
Gavroche is so full of life and he's so young and brave. I am not sorry that I hope that Montparnasse will be called and not him, even if we have a history. 

The mirror still show me the same image and I can clearly see how nervous I am and I know that I should really take that look away from my face if I want to have a chance.   
"Eponine." I turn hearing a voice so familiar that makes my heart warmer. Marius is on my doorway, looking nervous as me, but with a smile that gives me the strength to reach a hand for him and smile.   
  
"Monsieur Marius." He looks at me with that look that can get into my skin so quickly, and his hand is warm and that's all I need to find a little bit of courage.   
  
For a moment he doesn't know what to say, but I know what's going on in his head. His beloved Cosette will be with me and there is a chance that she will be the one sent to fight, but that girl is blessed by one of the most easiest life in all France. No doubt she's safe, but Marius can't know it, he can't hope too much, he doesn't want to.   
Hope is poison when you live in a world where from the age of 12 to the age of 18 you could be sent to die and after that you have barely enough to live a pity life.   
  
"How do you feel?" his voice is soft and I am glad I can hear some real sympathy in it.   
  
"I am fine." I lie with a smile.   
  
"It's not true." Marius says. "Eponine I wish this wasn't happening, not to you."   
  
Or Cosette.   
He doesn't say and I am content with this, because I don't need to hear him speaks about the girl who stole his heart, about the girl that took him away from me, even if never suspected my feelings for him.  
  
"There is nothing you can do, it's the system." I let his hand go and I sit on my unmade bed, between the clothes I decided not to wear. "It could have happened last year as well."   
  
"But this was your last year." Marius sounds so heartbroken. "You were so close..."   
  
"And you are out of it." I reply simply. He's 22 , been out of the Games for 4 years now, he's living a decent life and that most of people can only dream. "Really Marius, I don't want to rant or be sad right now."   
  
"I understand." he sits beside me and he hugs me so gently that I am not sure if I really have his arms around him. He's my friend, nothing more, but knowing that someone is caring about me is somehow sweet.   
  
My father, when I was picked up, just raised an eyebrow and considered me already dead, the same with my little brother, and my mother, well, she at least tried to make us eat a little more in sign of affection and worry. The truth is that if one of us die it will one less mouth to feed and in our world, it means more chance to survive for someone else.   
I can't blame them, this is how our society works.   
  
"Just hold me for a while, okay? You are the only friend I have." He nods and keep me close to him without saying another word.  
  
Marius is rally my only friend, the only one who is nice and sincere and supportive and gentle. My other friends are boys and girls who are in my condition, desperate and poor and without a future: we don't share our heart, we share our misery.   
  
From the first moment I saw Marius, that young boy, rich and smiley boy, there was nobody like him in my life. Even if his family was rich and he was what once was called nobility, he still went around with me, laugh with me and share the little things with me.   
Falling in love with him was so easy, so natural. As natural as for him was to fall in love with Cosette.   
  
Is my mother who storms in my room, with Gavorche behind her.   
  
"Eponine, come on, we will be late and I don't want the peacekeeper to come here and bring you to the main square with force."   
  
The idea brings shivers down my spine and I stand up quickly, while Marius does the same with more elegance and a little bow to my mother.   
"Yeah, we don't want that to happen." I answer and I wink at Gavroche, trying to look strong, because if I can be it, he will try his best to face the fear as well.   
  
"I must go now." Marius says kissing my cheek and I close my eyes fighting some tears back. It's easy to be strong on your own, but when you see that people care, you tremble.  
"Good luck, Eponine."   
  
"And may be the odds be ever in my favor." I answer trying my best to make it sound almost funny. The odds have never been in my favor, I don't see why they should start now.   
  
After Marius leaves, I can feel all my body tense. I know that as soon I will leave my house, I will have all Paris looking at me with pity. Those who have daughter of my age will be glad that I am there instead of their little girls, but the other will not care too much. My mother says something to Gavroche and to me, but I am not listening and she ends up slapping my hand to get my attention.   
  
"Dear girl, if this is your level of attention we are doomed." she says and she throw me and my brother outside the room and then, the house.   
  
I take Gavroche's hand and I squeeze it a little. He looks like a little man, with his dark blue jacket, his hair brushed away from his -for once- cleaned face and his pants who are luckily not ripped on the knees. He's too young to look this old and scared.  
  
We don't say a word until we are in the square. It's full of peacekeepers and of all the other kids coming from the other cities in the country. We are dead men and women walking and we do nothing to hide it.   
  
"Hey." I squeeze Gavroche’s hand one last time. "Be a good boy, do as they say and don't start a riot."   
  
Gavroche nods and leaves to join the other boys in the male queue. For a moment I want to run after him and hug him, but instead I join the other girls in the line.   
Cosette is in right in front of me, with her blonde hair floating around her head like a halo, and when she looks around and sees me, she smiles. The girl is too sweet to hate her, so I smile back. We don't talk because the peacekeepers wouldn't like it and we spent enough time doing it during the past months.   
  
As I approach the pacemaker to take my blood sample, I see Montparnasse in the other side of the square, and it's annoying how handsome he can always be.   
Curse him and his dreamy look and charming natural smile.   
  
Too soon, Fantine shows up on the stage built under the Eiffel Tower. Being the escort of our district means she has a house and money, but it's no secret that she was as desperate as us, that's why we don't hate her for being the one who picks up the name of the boy and the girl who will be sent to God only know what death trap.  
Fantine doesn't dress in the London way, she didn't let them took the France out of her and even her make up his a red and white and blue homage to her native country. She's beautiful and she has no problem in catch everyone's attention with a simple clap of her hands   
  
"Welcome, welcome!" she announces with clear voice. "We are here to decide who will represent France in the 74th Huger Games." the way she makes this sounds exciting makes me sick, but at least she doesn't remind us of the sin of our country, because she knows, like any other French woman and man, we had all the right to try to free us from England.   
  
They show a stupid movie about the importance of the Games and a story that I know by heart and I decide to ignore. "Europe is so lucky to be guided by a nation ad England." Fantine says without emotion and I know that I am not the only one with a small mocking smile on my face. Even Mayor Valjean is smiling, despite having her daughter in the numbers of the girls who could be sent away   
  
"Now, it's the moment to see who will fight for fame and fortune and glory." Fantine announces moving a little bit closer to the big cup with the small piece of papers with our names on it.   
My name is written on almost half of them, I know it. Every year your name is put there and if you need something you trade it for another piece of paper with your name in that cup, which means that if you are poor you are buying your ticket to death.   
  
That's why Cosette will not be picked: chances are good to her, with a easy life and money and no problem at all. The odds are not in my favor.   
  
"Ladies first." Fantine clears her throat as her hands wander around the papers and finally she picks one. She slowly open it and stop a second before reading. "Eponine Thenardier!"   
  
No, the odds are not in my favor.   
  
All the other girls move and it's like the damn Red Sea opening in front of me: I can see Fantine looking at me and all the people in the square and those who are in the building around the square.   
I move without feeling a thing, I just do it, I don't think anything.   
  
Cosette close her hand around my arm and looks at me with a heartbroken expression. "I am sorry." she says. And she means it.   
Her blue eyes follow me until I am on the stage, where Fantine is waiting for me with a forced smile. I know her, she knows me, there is no way we can hide it.   
  
People are looking and I am feeling light as a feather when I expected to feel as heavy as the Earth. I knew it, I can't fake surprise, not even for the cameras that are streaming the Reaping in all Europe.   
  
"Do you want to say something, dear?" Fantine asks and I shake my head. "Very well then, now to the boys..." I don't see her picking up the paper, but I know she's doing it. "Oh." it's the strangled sound in her voice that makes me turn to her. "Gavroche Thenardier."   
  
Not him.  
Everyone but him.   
  
Gavroche moves from his spot in the male queue and he moves closer and closer and nobody says anything even if everybody know he's my brother. This is so unfair.   
When he's on stage I am almost crying and I hug him so tight that I can feel his bones, one by one. People are looking and I don't give a damn, because my little brother is going in an arena with other twenty-two kids trying to kill him and with me as only protection.   
I don't care if sponsors are, in this very moment, deciding if our bound makes us week or strong, I know it makes us dead.   
  
"This is..." Fantine is speechless and all the audience is. "So sad." she finally admits. "A brother and a sister as tributes..." she doesn't have to asks if we are siblings, she's one of us, she knows.   
This is not sad.  
  
"This is unfair" I feel the words leave my mouth before I can shut up. No hope that people didn't hear me.   
  
Well, I was screwed anyway, better speak my mind.   
Everyone become silent and I feel the entity of my mistake.   
  
"Well, isn't this a moment full of emotions?" Fantine tries to detour the attention from me and I cannot be nothing but glad she's there. I reluctantly let go Gavroche and we takes our place beside Fantine.   
  
"Ladies and Gentlemen, your tribute for the 74th Hunger Games: Eponine and Gavroche Thenardier!"   
  
Nobody cheers, nobody claps at us, the silence is so powerful.   
One second later we are dragged away from the stage and closed in two different rooms.   
It's our last hour of freedom, one hour before leaving for the Capitol City.

 

* * *

 

Two peacekeepers are guarding the door just in case I am fool enough to try to escape. Not that I am going to do it.  
I feel like Marie-Antoinette in this room: there is damask paper on the walls, a little sofa, a cute table with food I will never touch.   
It may be made of gold, but this room is a prison.   
This hour is given to us to say goodbye to the people we care about, but I think I will stay alone for most of it. I am not a lonely girl, but the bounds I made in my eighteen years of life are too weak to matter now.   
  
And with my surprise, the door opens and Marius is in front of me once again.   
For a moment I think I'm going mad, because he's supposed to stay with Cosette, celebrating the fact that she will not be eligible for the next Game, because we already saw each other. But he's there and I throw myself at him and his arms close around my waist and he holds me close.   
  
I cling to him, closing my fist around his expensive jacket, hiding my face between his neck and shoulder. "Gavroche..." I say immediately. "Marius you have to do something about him!"   
"I can't." he says honestly, his voice just a whisperer.   
  
"No, Marius, you don't understand! There must be a way! A rule against siblings participating in the same Game!" mine is a frantic rant and only now I understand how really I am frightened for my little brother and maybe for me.   
  
"I asked Enjolras. There isn't, I am sorry." I nod and I let go of Marius. We look at each other and in our silence there is all our goodbye, because we both know: I will never come back from the arena without my little brother and there can be only one winner.   
  
"You are strong, Eponine." Marius puts his hands on the sides of my face and looks me in the eyes. "Show them."   
  
"I don't think I can." I reply looking down ashamed.   
  
"Yes you can and you will." Marius is so confident and I can’t' understand if he really believes it or he's doing that for my sake.   
  
"Don't you fret, Monsieur Marius." I feel my lips curving in a sad smile. "Whatever I'll face there can't be as bad as my daily life."  
  
He kisses my forehead and hugs me again before the peacekeepers takes him away from me.   
  
I feel blessed enough for just one visit that I never expected the second and, to be honest, I wish there wasn't a second visit, because when I see my new guest, all my fears, all my pain and worries leaves me and I can feel rage coming from the center of my stomach.   
Montparnasse closes the door behind him and looks at me, a little frown on his face.   
  
"You!" I shout and before I realize it I slapping him hard. "You useless coward!"   
  
Montparnasse touches the point where my hand hit his face with a concerned look, his fingertips barely caressing a barely noticeable mark. "Make good use of this strength and you may survive."   
  
"Shut up!" I shove him against the wall. "Why you didn't say a word, 'Parnasse? You know Gavroche, you like the kid! And you kept your stupid mouth shut, you let him be chose for the Games! How could you?"   
  
He frees himself too quickly, pushing me away and taking my wrists in his hands. "Calm down, princess, won't you?" his eyes pierce into my soul. "Did you expected me to stand up for your little brother, to take his place as tribute?"  
  
"Yes." I answer immediately, no doubt in my voice. "You are far more qualified for the Games, you are used to kill! What's the difference in an arena? He's only thirteen, 'Parnasse."   
  
"I know how old is he, and how old I am." his voice is calm, soft, gentle and I hate the way he can not care about what it’s going on. "I understand it's tragic, but better him than me. Eponine, use your brain! We didn't survived this long on the streets because we were generous! I am only thinking about my sake."  
  
Even if I know he's right, it doesn't help. I want to scream, to shout, to punch him in his perfect face, to grab and handful of his black hair and rip them off. I want to hurt him because he deserved more than little Gavroche to be sent to die.  
  
"I hate you."   
  
"Such a shame. I don't." he replies and there is a note in his voice that makes my stomach knots, like he said a whole different thing and his eyes just confirms it and I don't know what to say. I step back before his charm can draw me to him even more. "You will be okay, you can even win." he adds straightening his tie.   
  
"Don't make me laugh." I reply with a hint of sarcasm. "I'm from France, they will trying to kill me as quickly as possible."   
  
"Yes." Montparnasse nods. He comes by my side, takes my hands in his and guide me towards the sofa. We sit together in an intimacy that isn't supposed to be here, not now. It’s the wrong place and the worst time. "But Eponine, as is true that I've killed, is true that you are a natural born fighter. You fight every day for your life, nobody knows her way in this world better than you. You know the cruel side of the world, the arena will be just a little more thought, but you have your chances."   
  
I am distracted by the way his thumbs traces circles on my hand. "It's not true, I am not ready to kill or try to."   
  
"You will be in time." he says like a promise and with a smile that takes my breath away. "I'll watch you and I'll wait for you, understood?"  
  
It's only a trick, it's only an illusion. "You should have come with me and give my brother a chance to live a not-so-horrible life." I spat with dread hate.   
  
"I don't have suicidal instincts."   
"I thought you were better than this."   
"My life is the only one I value, I don't risk it just for the chance to kill other twenty-three kids on European TV."   
"I hope you die very soon, 'Parnasse."   
"Some night I hope it too, 'Ponine."   
  
When he kisses me, I am not prepared, not even remotely: he does it tenderly, with a kind of emotion I didn't think he could show. Montparnasse is dangerous, I know it, but I have nothing to lose and everything to take from this moment.  
He's a young charming man and bringing the memory of a kiss with me can't hurt too much, even if it's the wrong boy who is doing it.   
  
"I still hate you." I say, our lips still brushing.   
  
"Doesn't matter anymore." he laughs gingerly and I found myself shivering because his laugh doesn't sound right even if it's warm. "You are going away, little Eponine taking the fly."   
  
"I am not little." I reply with animosity. "You know who is little? Gavroche. The boy you let be chosen as tribute because you are not man enough to take his place."   
  
He rolls his eyes so gently and stroke my cheeks. "Stop it, nothing can be done anymore, let it be. Remember who you are Eponine and you will survive."   
  
I shook my head and I am about to speak when the door opens and Montparnasse is dragged away from two peacekeepers who have no patience.   
Time's up.   
  
We kiss one last time, for the sake of the nights spent stealing bread and jewels, for the cheap –but worth as gold- coffee cups shared at dawn, for the times we ran away from the peacekeeper hand in hand.   
  
"You can do it." he says and for a moment in his voice there is so a hope that bring tears to my eyes.   
  
The door is closed and I am alone once more, just in time to bring myself together.  
I have to be strong from this moment, for my own sake and for my brother.   
I hide my hate for England and London inside me where it cannot be seen, where the camera will not be able to catch it and show it to the world. I hide my hate for the world in a small part of my heart where I hid all my dreams, where all my hopes died.   
If I am going to fight, I'll do my best and I will make them see that I can be someone in their game.   
If they want I show, I'll give them a damn show.   
Gavroche is the only thing I can’t hide, he's my weak spot and I have to find a way to turn him into my strong point.  
  
When it's time to leave, I don't have a plan.   
My little brother looks stronger than me because at least he doesn't have red circles around his eyes, sign that he didn't cried.  
Maybe he spent an hour alone. No it's impossible, he has a lot of little friends that adore him.   
  
"Are we going now?" he asks blankly, but when he takes my hand I feel his fingers shaking.   
  
"Yes, one last parade in the square." I answer focused on the back of the peacekeeper who are leading the way. "Then we will take the train that will bring us to London."   
  
"I've never been on a train." Gavroche says excited and I smile a little.   
  
We don't stop much in the square, just the time for Mayor Valjean to say goodbye and Fantine to join us. She will come to London with us, poor woman, and Valjean seems so lost at the idea. Luckily the Games never last long.   
  
As we are there, I spot Marius holding Cosette close, kissing her head, and around them the group of boys who call themselves Les Amis. I know half of them by mistake and the other half is a mystery, but they are cool guys, gentle and sweet and full of energy wasted in changing the world.   
  
Marius is the one who sees me and what he does next surprise me.  
He places the three middle finger of the left hand to his lips, then he lifts his arm toward me, quickly followed by all his friends, even Cosette.   
For London is a sign to say goodbye and good luck, nothing more, but not in France.   
For use the three fingers represent our values _: liberté, egalitè, fraternité_.   
  
This could be a rebellion per se, they are so dumb and stupid and naive. They could get killed or imprisoned, but they are doing it for me and my brother.   
  
We leave before I can do something stupid like crying or say thank you.


	2. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally the mentors show themselves, Gavroche is the only one happy on the train, London is grey and Fantine has a talk with Eponine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> English still not my first language. All mistakes are mine.

[ FANTINE ]

As soon as we get to the train, I let my smile fade from my face.  
Years and years of this job and I am not used to see such young and hopeless creatures come to a train that will bring them to the coldest of the city.  
There is something so wrong in the way that hope, happiness, and joy leaves the eyes of those who know they are going to be part of the Hunger Games: something in them dies as soon as they hear their names.  
In a way, we are all dead in the moment we born, because ours is not a proper life, we struggle and we try to keep swimming across a sea made of our tears and populated by monsters and fears.  
They are eighteen and thirteen and yet, they already wear scars, these two young brave children who have no choice but follow me and wait for orders.

  
Gavroche, the boy, is looking around with open eyes and it's somehow a relief to see that he can be amazed even in a moment like this; Eponine, on the other hand, seems older than a few minutes ago and the way she looks at her brother it's heartbreaking. I can sense how responsible she feels, I can see a woman and not a girl anymore, I could almost see the weight on her shoulder. But when Gavroche looks at her, she smiles for his behalf.  
  
"So this is how a train looks like!" Gavroche says all excited starting moving around, looking out of the windows, trying every seat.  
  
"Yes." I say with a nod.  
"I like it!" Gavroche change his place once again. "Don't you like, 'Ponine?"  
"I really like it, Gavroche." Eponine replies with convincing happy tone in her voice.  
"Well, you should really sit down and enjoy the trip: in few hours we will be in London, so I suggest you rest for a while."  
"But London is across the sea!" Gavroche protest with energy. "How can we go there with a train?"  
  
A legit question that I made myself twenty years ago when I was on a completely different train being sent to London with all the other girls who joined me in the brothels of the Capital. "There is a tunnel under the sea, built long before England became Europe. You will see the sea all around you."  
  
 The light of excitement in the young boy's eyes is enough the effort to be all smiles and happiness in a moment when I would only crush on a couch and sleep.  
  
"So we are going under the sea?" Gavroche turns his head towards his sister and grins. "It's better than swimming!"  
"I guess it is." Eponine nods. Despite being afraid she's trying to relax, because there is really nothing more than wait to do at this point. "I am sure we miss two people in our group?" she asks me, curiosity on her face.  
  
"Indeed." I reply and I really would like to know where are our two mentors. The reason why they didn't show up yet can be a lot, so I don't waste time listing them in my mind. My heels are killing me, taking my shoes off is really my priority at the moment. "They will be here soon, I am sure." 

"Do you mean Enjolras and Grantaire?" Gavroche leave his seat to just run and take some sweet in his hands. He doesn't even know the name of what he's eating, they are expensive sweet that we don't have in France because we can't afford them, but he’s a kid and he eats what he thinks may be tasteful. "I am sure Grantaire was drunk this morning."  
I sigh, not really surprised by the news.  
  
"He always is, I don't think he able to be sober." Eponine points out crossing her arm on her chest.  
  
"Actually, he's sober every day, from 8 am to 11 am." a voice correct her from the door who connect our compartment to the other one.  
  
Grantaire and Enjolras are finally joining us and their entrance already show what our two tributes can expect from them. Enjolras walks with the authority and the confidence of someone who is used to command, he joins Eponine and Gavroche with the most serious of the expression. Grantaire moves slower, bottle in hand, and he sits on the other side of the train, making obviously that he doesn't want to have part of the conversation is going to happen.  
Just like every year.  
I think that destiny couldn't put together two people more different that the two boys, really.

  
"I am sorry." starts Enjolras, his voice is solemn but lack a sense of real empathy, which is strange because I remember clearly the boy I brought back home from the Games. He knows, and yet he seems so distant, so little involved. "But I can promise we'll do our best to make you come alive from this."  
  
Grantaire rolls his eyes and I know by experience, that he doesn't agree on the use of the plural or on the fact that Enjolras seems to always forget to explicit that, even if we are lucky, we will bring home only one of them alive.  
But you can expect that from Enjolras, not a lie, but a not-said truth, a silent statement to help, to give courage and keep the moral high.  
  
"Will you teach us how to fight?" Gavroche asks curious, ignoring the shocked look his sister gives him.  
  
"You will be trained, not from us directly. There will be a training room and you will have the time to practice." Enjolras answer and I think he doesn't understand that he has in front of him a thirteen year young boy, a boy that needs a little bit of care.

  
I sit next to Grantaire and I know he's thinking the same thing. Grantaire's eyes are usually hollow, they seems to show some life only when Enjolras is talking to him, so when I spot his remorseful look to Gavroche I feel even worse. We are five people forced to be part of something we don't like and we are not even allowed to show how much we hate all of this.  
Eponine is listening, but her minds is full of worries, not with Enjolras' instructions. A choice she may regret in few days, but I am not going to point that out.  
  
"How long before the game starts? Where are the other tributes?" Gavroche is full of questions and he fills the silence created by us.  
  
"You will see the other tributes ad the training and may be you will become allies with one of them, if it could help."  
  
"Everyone but the Spanish, anyway." Grantaire points out. "Nobody likes the Spanish. They are insensitive, they don't do team work and they work for the Capital."

  
Which is true, unfortunately. Spain is England's little pet, they were the first to turn the back to the rebellious countries and swear obedience, so England gives them more money, more freedom and even if it's not official, everyone knows that their tributes are trained and prepared for the Games. That's why nobody likes them and Grantaire knows it better than anyone, since during his game he was almost killed by the Spanish female tribute.  
  
"It's not the moment to talk about it, anyway." Enjolras interrupts with a sharp look at the other mentor. "We will see them and decide."  
  
"Yeah, it's not the moment to do anything at all." Grantaire sighs and drinks. He doesn't look really that drunk, to be honest, there is a kind of sad sobriety in his voice, a worried that I've never heard in almost ten years.  
  
"For you it's never the time to do something." Enjolras replies and he looks at the other with such disappointment that I feel bad for the black haired man sitting next to me.  
  
Grantaire doesn't answer the open provocation, instead he stands up and leave the four of us sitting in an awkward silence.  
I sigh and take off my shoes: sometimes I feel like I am not being the escort for the French district, but a babysitter for two boys who are supposed to be all grown up and be a role model, a guide.

  
Sometimes I feel like that, even if Grantaire is the one that looks most hurt by all the times they fight, is Enjolras who would give anything in the world to stop fights to happens between them.  
In all these years, I've learned to read the little changes in him after a fight: the way he looks for a second too long at the point where Grantaire just stormed out, the way his speech is less powerful after a fight, the way his body tense.  
Grantaire probably doesn't know how much he affects Enjolras, like Enjolras doesn't know how much he hurts Grantaire.  
I've tried to make them talk and comes to reason, but it was impossible. I guess they will settle everything down one day.

  
Gavroche doesn't look bothered, but Eponine is older, smarter, and she knows that this is not going to end well if her mentors are not able to cooperate. The rest of the travel is quiet, even when we enter the tunnel under the sea, because both Gavroche and Eponine are so amazed that they don't find the right words to describe what they are seeing.  
I am now used to the wall of water around us, to all the fishes that swim near the tunnel's transparent walls, but for our tribute it's a first time and it's like entering a new world.

 

* * *

  
London's sky is grey, but the city is an explosion of vivid colors: from the clothes, to the walls, to the most useless stuff.  
London is not Paris and every time I come back here, I sense it in my bones. London is technology, modern architecture, business, money; Paris is tradition, poverty, is less happy, more modest.  
The air seems different, clearer, easier to breath. Here there are no poor in the streets, no people wearing torn clothes, no people with rotten teeth and all the kind of disease.  
London is wealthy and everyone do their best to show it off. It’s sickening.  
Eponine and Gavroche looks so lost and out of place with their simply clothes and their eyes wide opened.  
  
"This way." I lead the way towards the skyscraper where all the tributes will stay before the Games. There are twelve floors and we occupy the upper because nobody wants to get involved with the French, not really. France is like the adolescent rebellious kid of Europe, always ready to start a fight; a good thing, because in the past ten years we had two winners due to this natural attitude.  
  
Two winners that hours later are still pouting at each other, showing that they are two children at the heart.

"What is that?" Gavroche simply asks pointing his finger at the skyscraper in front of us.  
  
"Oh, right." I clear my voice. "We don't have this kind of architecture in France. It's called a skyscraper, there are a lot of different apartment in it, so a lot of people can live in this space. Instead of having a lot of small houses, London likes more to have few very tall buildings."  
  
"How many people can stay in there?" Eponine is as surprised as her brother, they are both counting the floors and trying to picture the inside.  
  
“Capitol citizens tends to waste space.” Enjolras explains. “They have giant houses for a family of three or four person, it’s a shame considering that in the same space they could fit ten people or more, like we do in France.” There is the ringing bell of a political speech coming on, but a quickly look around at the peacekeepers make Enjolras changes his mind and I am happy he did, because talking about how un-respectful London is while we are London is a suicide. I share a look with Grantaire and he simply nods at me.  
  
“It’s…” Eponine blinks but stops because the moment is passed and she sense it too. The girl is too smart to speak her mind once again.  
  
“Come on.” I lead the group inside, trying my best not to stop in the big hall and ignore the way Eponine and Gavroche’s noses are up and the way or can’t keep their mouth closed for the surprise.  
  
“You will have all the time to be amazed by the aseptic look of London in the next days, let’s go.” Grantaire takes our tributes’ arms and lead them to the elevator, where he had to physically throw them inside.  
Poor souls, they don’t know what an elevator is, because in France we just use stairs, and when the elevators moves, Eponine takes my hand and Gavroche grabs her sister’s arm with a bright grin all over his face.  
  
When we hit the 12th floor, they come out of the elevator wish shaking legs, followed by a very annoyed Grantaire who, again, takes their arms and force them to move.

  
I am far way too familiar with this apartment, with the big living room, the wall full of window, the two couches, the table between them and the table in the corner, the simply colors of the walls and furniture, everything. I don’t consider it home , my home is a cute houses in Paris with stripped wallpaper and flowers on the balcony, but I am comfortable here, because in all London, this is the only safe place I have.  
  
“We are going to stay here?” Eponine is genuinely shocked. When we are forced to watch the Games, they don’t show where the tributes lives the days before, where they spend their last hours of freedom –and life-, so I understand her surprise.  
  
“Yes, a cold, not very comfortable place.” Grantaire, who may not paint anymore but still has the eyes of an artist, never liked London and every year he sounds more and more annoyed by people who loves the city. He’s used to colours, to beauty, not to grey sky and grey building. “But I don’t think you will mind since you will not be here for a lot of time anyway…”  
  
I have no words to describe the look that Enjolras gives to Grantaire and the sudden realization on Grantaire’s face his cynicism crossed a thin line between being honest with the tribute and being heartless.  
  
“I am sorry.” He says immediately, a hint of panic in his voice. “I’ll shut up for good now.”  
  
“Better.” Enjolras murmurs shaking his head.  
  
“Grantaire, please don’t think we are idiots, we know what’s going to happen.” Eponine exclaims with confidence. “And it’s not your fault.”  
Gavroche nods simply and smiles, a smile more stronger than any kind of words.

Suddenly I realize that Grantaire and Eponine knows each other, because  there is such familiarity in her words and this explains why our drunk mentor is bitter than usual. Probably he knows Gavroche too.  
  
Grantaire just stands there, deciding what to say or if it’s necessary for him to say something at all, looking young and lost. “I am still sorry.”  
  
Eponine moves towards him and hug him with a small smile on her lips and she says something too but it’s too low for me to hear, but I don’t need to listen to their words, because they way the hug each other is enough. Having someone you know in the Games is not easy, never, but I think that for someone like Grantaire who doesn’t have a lot of friends, it’s even harder.  
  
“Can we please focus on the stuff we need to do and don’t pretend we are already doomed?” Enjolras crosses his arms on his chest. “There is a chance you may win, you know it, right? Let’s not waste time.”  
The smile on Eponine’s face is the kind of smile of someone who knows it better and I just know that I need to talk with her as soon as possible.  


* * *

  
We have time to talk few hours later, after dinner, when Gavroche decides to explore every inch of the apartment, when Enjolras excuses himself to his bedroom and books and Grantaire just disappear with an awful number of bottles.

Outside it's dark, but there are no stars in the sky, hidden by all the light coming from the city, which is really sad.

I found Eponine with her nose pressed against the window, trying to see something outside, something in the sky...just something I guess, because she's not allowed to just go away, so this is the best she has.

"Eponine, can I talk to you for a moment?" I ask politely, stepping next to her. Now that I am barefoot life seems a lot better.

She nods without saying a word and I can see her nose move a little in the motion.

I don't know how to start, even if I know what I want her to know, what I want to tell her before everything starts, before they force her to learn how to kill.

"How long have you known Grantaire?" I start with something casual.

"Oh, years." she looks at me for a moment. "Before his Game." she adds blankly.

"That's ten years at least." why I am surprised? Grantaire is not from a rich or wealthy family, Eponine lives in the worst streets of Paris, they share a background. I can see a very young Eponine following everywhere a Grantaire still innocent, happy and sober.  
  
"Yeah, but we are not that close. “We could have been, but after the Game he just chose different friends."  
 Les Amis are famous enough, she doesn't need to be more obvious.  
  
"What about your friends, then?"  
   
"Only Marius." Eponine moves away from the window and sits on the couch. "Who is, by the way, dating your daughter."  
  
"I am aware of it." I reply sitting next to her. I am not sure about how I feel knowing that my dear Cosette is dating someone, because love is amazing, but in a world like this, love can means suffering and a wasted life. Love cannot be in a cruel society, especially because loves leads to life, to children and our children are sent to die every year. No, I am not sure if I want Cosette to be in love in a world like this. "Are you dating anyone?"

Eponine blushes and takes one of the little pillows to hide her face. "No." her voice is muffled against the fabric of the pillow, but her behavior is a very big yes. Anyway, I'll let her lie as long as she wants.  
  
 “I am asking because Enjolras will ask you a lot of question tomorrow, to prepare your interview, you better be ready and if you don’t want to talk about something tell me, I’ll stop him before he can do any arm.” I smile to reassure her.  
  
"You can't stop Enjolras when he does something. I saw him sometimes at the Musain, because I was waiting for Marius." she shakes her head. "I'll manage it, don't worry, I'm not that weak."  
  
That's a moment I cannot let go. "You are not, I know you Eponine, but it must be very hard being here with your little brother." when I hear my voice, it miss all the sweetness I wanted and I sound too much like Enjolras.  
  
She breathes in. "Yes." it's her answer. That's all. Her hands closes around the pillow and I am afraid she will tear it.  
  
"In moment like this I wish there could be two winners, really." finally I sound more like myself and that helps Eponine, who looks at me with honesty in her eyes.  
  
"I was so mad this morning. Angry. Furious. Desperate." she lists slowly. "But on the train I realized that with this Games, my misery is over." I frown a little, then she goes on. "I know I will protect my little brother, and I know that if we are the last remaining, I'll let him win, but if they kill him first." she stops quickly closing her eyes, like if saying this does some real physical pain. "I'll do my best to win and if I win I will have a good life."  
  
"I don't follow you, Eponine..."  
  
"My life sucks, Fantine." it's the first time she calls my name. "I am a thief and that's not enough to survive. That life is now over, if I die, I'll be with God, if I win, I'll have a easy life and I will not bother to do anything but mourn my little brother. I am already winning. I am free. I have nothing to lose, because no matter what happens, I'll never go back to my pitiful life."  
  
The blood in my veins runs cold hearing her saying that.  
There was a time, when I was about her age, that I thought something similar, something as desperate. Eponine reminds me of myself, because I see in her eyes the same desperation and hungry for a happy life that I had at her age, that somehow is still in me today.  
  
"I am fine, Fantine, really." she says so softly that I barely hear her, I notice more her hands on my arms. "At least now I don't have to worry about my future anymore. I started to believe that I was going to end up sleeping around or catching cat to eat them like my parents do, but now? Now I know how it will end, and I have still some dignity left."  
  
Dignity may seems something so little compared to life herself, but the true is that when you don't have anything you start to value your pride and you try to have dignity, even when you sleep in the hard stones in the darkest corners of Paris.  
When I left for London, I lost all my pride and being alive didn't mean a thing, so I know what Eponine means, I know that she will face death with integrity, with her head up.  
  
I asks myself is she knows what the winners have to face, if she knows that if she lives she'll lose some part of that dignity, like Enjolras knows too well.  
  
"It’s admirable, my dear." I reply. "But also so sad...you are children, you are not supposed to think like that."  
  
She looks at me with her eyebrow arched a little. "I stopped being a child years and years ago, when my mother stopped hugging me and my father started teaching me how to pickpocket. And Gavroche is no longer a child too, he has his own little gang of kids like him and they go around Paris all day. So yes, I am glad that life is over."  
  
Like I was glad when Monsieur Valjean found me in London and brought me back to Paris, gave me a house, took my little girl in his care, even if I was forced to work for capitol. My duty as escort is only another form of prostitution, my body is not used anymore, but London still own my time, my thoughts and my freedom; all the nice dresses, all the makeup and the little money I make are not enough for being forced to smile as kids dies.  
"You are more strong that I hoped, Eponine." I admit, realizing that yes, there is really a woman in front of me now. "I am not sure if it's a good thing or not."  
  
"Neither I am." she stands up. "Are you really worried, Fantine? For me, for Gavroche? Or this is just a...sympathetic talk you always have?" she hesitates a little, but there is a need and there is hope in her eyes.  
  
"I am really worried." I reply standing up too. "You think that I don't remember the little girl at the Thenradier house that smiled at Cosette and was so happy to have a new friend? That little girl that made for me a little harder to leave my daughter in somebody's else house? I was glad she had a friend at least." I smile and hug her tight, like I would do with my Cosette if I was allowed by the law. "We usually don't know the tributes so well, it's harder even for us, but it gives us a good reason to do everything is in our power to get you out of the arena alive."  
  
She hugs me back after few seconds, probably trying to remember how to do so. "Just makes sure they'll try to save Gavroche and not me." she whispers, her voice broken, close to tears.  
  
"I can try, if you want, but in the end is Enjolras who takes this kind of decision. I am only here to look pretty and show you the place and keep a schedule for everyone." I don't know if I can convince our winner to bet on a thirteen years old boy who has really low chances, but it's not what Eponine wants to hear. "Maybe you can convince Grantaire, you two are friends and I think he likes the kid too. If you are lucky he will be sober enough to have a proper talk with Enjolras."  
  
Still in my arms, Eponine nods slowly and makes a soft agreement sound.  
  
"Tomorrow you have a busy day and night, with the parade in front of president Javert and all London." I pat her on the back. "Try to get some sleep as long as you are here, in the arena you will probably end up staying awake for days."  
  
"I know." Eponine let me go with a sigh. Of course she knows, every years everyone is forced to watch the Games, she knows how it works. "Is president Javert as terrible as he looks on tv?" she bits her bottom lip, almost regretting the question.  
  
I close my eyes and for a moment I am twenty-eight again, in the presidential palace, Javert looking at me as Valjean asks him permission to bring me back to Paris. For a moment I still feel the burning of his eyes on my skin, the sharp edge of every word he said, his english still full of the french accent.  
  
"He's human." I says to Eponine, because that's what Valjean told me once back in France. "And like every human is a ma capable of being a great man or being a terrible one: most of the time he's both."  
  
The poor girl doesn't understand and she looks at me confused, but it's not really the time for a brief story of President Javert's life, that would only makes her more confused.  
  
Valjean told me that story one night as we were walking around a sleeping Paris: Javert himself confessed to Valjean that he was born in a jail and that was the reason why he became, years after, a guard in a prison, "Because he took his decision, because he wanted to show he was righteous, not like his parents. He wanted redemption." Valjean said. From that, being a free man, he did his career in the police, first in France, then in London where he became friend with the previous president and earned the trust of every political influent man in England. When the president died, they offered the job to Javert and he took it. "He aspire to a perfect order, he's not a bad man, Fantine. He really believes that England can guide all Europe to happiness, but he also thinks that the Games are necessary to remember that rebellions are useless, a total waste of energy and lives. As long as he thinks this, people will not follow him and he will not have his order and he will looks like an oppressor."  
That night, Valjean's words made me so sad that I cried again after years spent hating and despising: a good thing because I learnt that there was still love and compassion in my heart, I learnt that I was still alive and human.  
  
"Don't let him scare you, dear. He's only doing the job he's supposed to do, like I am, like Grantaire or Enjolras are. We are all playing a role, liking it or not." I says to Eponine, locking the memory back inside my head. "Now, go to sleep." I gently pushes her towards her bedroom's door.  
  
"Goodnight, Fantine." She says with a little smile that's more natural that anything else she did today.  
  
"Goodnight, Eponine." I reply with a matching smile. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Games starts and ends, like every year, only that this time Grantaire is sober and Enjolras is planning a revolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to update? Yes. Because I'm stuck with chapter 5 and writing another story and english is not my first language and the other one is somehow simpler to write, so...this is still my baby though.
> 
> So feels in this chap? Probably, with Grantaire you can never know....

[ GRANTAIRE ]

I wake up and I am immediately painfully sober and aware of the world around me: the room is dark, the sheets are wrapped around my body, keeping me too damn hot, and there is a banging sound.

At first I think it's just my head, the awful consequence of the hangover, but it's too loud and my head is perfectly fine. I move a little, the sheets still around my body and I realize that it must have been an agitated night that I don't remotely remember.   
Somehow I realize that the sound comes from my door and it's followed by my name.

  
"Grantaire, open this door, now!" Enjolras voice is so noisy that for a moment I am tempted to take the pillow and hide my head under it until he goes away and leaves me alone. Well, in the end I do it, because even I desire nothing that start the days seeing my Apollo's face, I am not ready yet to start the day with a fight.

  
"Grantaire! I don't have time to waste because you act like a child!" he goes on. " Open the door, let me in."

  
I sighs thinking that it would be nice if we were in another world where he would say the last part of that phrase with the trepidation of a secret lover coming to his beloved house. Too bad we are in a world where he spend time with me because he's forced to and not because he wants to.

  
"Grantaire! You are not even trying to be helpful this year! Open the door."

  
Get out from the sheets it's more complicated than I thought at first and few times I almost end up falling on the floor, but somehow I found myself in front of the door unlocking it.

  
Enjolras is definitely pissed off at me, but it's too early even for him to have some real anger in his eyes. "How many times I told you to not sleep with the door locked?" he asks knowing exactly the answer.

  
"Good morning, fearless leader." I yawn to his face. "Have you slept well?"

  
He doesn't answer, but he has dark circles under his eyes so I think that's an obvious no. Then it hit me, something is not right, Enjolras never comes to my room to wake me up, there can be only one explanation why he's at my door, arm crossed on his chest.

  
"Oh, so it's today." I say without enthusiasm. Seems like this year I've drink more than usual because I totally lost count of the days; at least usually I know when the Games start.

I try to recollect some memories from the past days, what Eponine wore for the parade, what she said during her interview, Gavroche's training score or anything else.

I am pretty sure she wore a blue dress for the interview, with perfect make up and a lovely smile on her face and that the little boy took a 7 in the training. I vaguely remember watching the training scores announcement sitting next to Enjolras in front of the TV, with my head on his shoulder.  But that part could be just a creation of my mind, after all.

  
"Yes, it's today." Enjolras pushes me into the room. "So I need you sober and clean and supportive."

  
My brain just stops at the _‘I need you’_ part and really, that's enough for me to become a docile puppy. "Whatever you ask from me, Enjolras."

  
"Good. Take a quick shower, you smell like brandy and it's awful." he orders opening the bathroom door before throw me inside. "I'll see if you still have some clothes without alcohol stains."

  
"I can choose my clothes, you know?" I protest looking helpless at the shower commands. So many buttons...even a sober person without a drinking problem would find hard to set a damn shower. I just need hot water, why people in London have to do everything so complicated?

  
"So you deliberately chose not to wear clean clothes?" in the end is Enjolras who set up my shower. "Come on Grantaire, we are already late." He closes the bathroom's door and I step into the damn shower.

 

* * *

 

When I get back, wearing a dark grey robe that it's really too soft to makes me want to dress up, I notice that the bottles on my bedside table are gone and that my bed is made.

  
"You didn't have to do it." I say arching an eyebrow, trying not to sound surprise.

  
"Well, you weren't going to do it and the room was a mess." Enjolras replies with a shrug. Sometimes he can do nice things that only confuses me, because I have no idea of how I should interpret them. He hands me the clothes he chose for me earlier. "Change, then get rid of that beard.”   
I touch my faces because I really had no idea my beard was growing back. Hell, I really drank too much even for me this time, if I forgot to shave.

  
"What, you don't like it?" I tease.

  
Enjolras frowns. "No, actually." he replies with honesty, his eyes fixed on my face. "It makes you look way too old."

"I'll shave then." I says simply. If he doesn't like it, I have no reason to have a beard. 

"Maybe it's better if I do it, I don't want you to cut yourself because you have shaking hands." Enjolras propose thoughtfully.

  
"I don't have shaking hands, I am not drunk." which is a shame, because I would really close myself in the room and drink to oblivion. "Yet."

  
"You are not going to drink today." Enjolras orders with a firm tone and an eloquent look.

  
"You know this is not how it works, I don't obey your orders." I warn him as he goes into the bathroom and opens two drawers before finding what he needs.

"Really?" I ask as I spot the shaving kit in his hands. "You know that here they have electric razors, yes? Why you keep using that damn knives like a prehistoric man?"

  
Enjolras doesn't look at me at me for a moment, too focused on checking the state of the blades. "I know you are not a big fan, but I can't use an electric razor to save my life." he stops, because it's such a unfortunate things to say that I bet he feels ashamed. "Anyway, you can't say a thing. Sit down, so we can start."

  
I roll my eyes. "I can do it." I extend my hand in front of me to show him that I am not shaking like the drunk man I am for almost all the day. "See?"

  
Enjolras looks at my hand with some real interest for few seconds. "Sit down." he says again, coming back in the main room and gesturing to the only chair here.

  
Arguing will do us no good -especially since Enjolras is holding a knife and I know pretty well what he can do with them- so I follow his order and I sit.

"Do you hate the way I look with a beard so much?" I tease again, a little smirk on my lips.

  
He doesn't answer, instead he applies the shaving cream on my face and it's damn cold and I am pretty sure that it was supposed to be some kind of slap.

"I need you to be as charming as possible." he muttered deciding where to start.

  
"So so you think I can be charming?" I am more surprised this time.

  
Enjolras stops a second and looks at me. "I highly doubt it." at least he sounds honest. He holds my head in place and starts his works. "But showing drunk as always will not give the kids any chance to survive. Or money."

  
I would smile if it wouldn't mean high risk to be cut. "So this is all about? Since when you need me to convince the sponsors?"

  
For eight years, the time we have been mentors together, Enjolras was the one doing all the job. Not that I am proud of it, but I don't see the point in trying to save kids when we are all too well aware they are going to die anyway. France is not going to have a winner for at least other ten years, since Enjolras and I were lucky enough to survive our Games, London will not let this happen, never. A punishment in the punishment.

  
"I've always needed you." Enjolras answers after a very long moment of silence, when my left cheek is clean. "But you were too damn drunk to be helpful or notice that, so I ended up doing this all by myself."

I feel an argument racing towards us, a bomb ready to explode, so I keep my mouth shut for my own sake. Maybe I should admit I am the worst mentor ever, but in my defense, I've never asked to be one. Hell, I've never asked to come out alive from the arena and become this neither.

  
"What's the plan, then?" I asks when the silence is too long and the sound of the razor over my skin becomes annoying.

  
“I don't know yet." Enjolras admits. "I've made a list of reasons to keep one alive or the other, but I can't decide until I see the arena."

  
I frown, because usually he's the one with the plan, he's the one who knows exactly what to do and how to do it. "And you need me because...?"

  
He cleans the razor and takes a deep breath. "Because you could be useful for once and help me decide."   
  
I can't.  
  
 I can't chose between the girl who kicked my ass from the worst places in Paris to keep me safe and the boy who crushed at my place to sleep in a bed one day a month.

  
"You really don't know what to do this year, right?" I laugh, because that's the best way to get out of an awful situation like this one. "So desperate that you come to me for help!"

  
"Grantaire." Enjolras is back to his normal self, to the bossy mentor. "You know them better than I do, so you will tell me what to do, understood?" the way he lifts my chin is far, far away from gentle, but he puts all his attention in the way the razor passes over my throat.

  
I look at him because otherwise I am sure my mind will send me images of that stupid Spanish girl who almost killed me. "Understood." I reply when he's done and the knife is not longer on my skin.  
  
 "Go and change." he says almost annoyed and for once I don't know if it's the situation or my fault. Probably is both.

"I don't need a babysitter." I point out moving towards the bathroom.   
  
"Yes, you do." Enjolras replies.   
  
He's the one who close the door behind me.

* * *

  
  
The clothes he picked up for me are too elegant. and added to his worry I start to question what he really wants to do. In years he never gave a damn if I was doing my job or not and now he wants me to help him. I am flattered, of course, but it's Enjolras and he never does nothing for nothing.  
  
"What's really going on in here?" I ask annoyed once I am back in the main room. "What this is all about, mh?"  
  
Enjolras looks at me confused, his eyebrow frowned just a little. "Nothing at all, Grantaire. Don't try to be paranoid."  
"Don't insult me." I say frustrated. "Sober, clean, and with pretty clothes. What are we trying to sell, a part, of course, ourselves?"   
  
He bites on his bottom lip, probably at my poor choice of words that I immediately regret -such a shame I am not drunk and I don't have an excuse to be a douche-bag- but there is no time for saying sorry. I should know better than say things like that to him.  
  
"A revolution." Enjolras finally says, his eyes on me, full of all his determination.  
  
"Woah, woah, stop there." I raise my hands. "I wouldn't use that word...here."   
  
Okay, maybe our rooms aren't controlled all day and night, but I wouldn't be surprised if there was a small microphone somewhere, really.  
  
"I know." Enjolras nods. "But you asked, and now you know too. I'll need your help this year, okay? I've a lot of things to do, a lot of people to meet and I need you to be ready to take the situation under control if I am not around for...some reason."  
  
 Fuck.  
  
 Is Enjolras giving me instruction and asking me to cover him as he goes around and organizes a riot?   
  
I am not Combeferre or Courfeyrac, that's not what I usually do, that's not what I am supposed to do.  
  
 I need a drink.   
  
"Fine." I agree in the end. "But keep me out of your plans, okay?" I sigh knowing that I will totally regret my decision. "I'll watch over the kids, you can do whatever you have to do."   
  
For a moment there is a sparkle of joy in his eyes and I dumbly believe he's going to kiss me in the heat of the moment.   
  
He doesn't, of course.   
  
"Glad we understand each other for once." he looks at my desk and I instantly follow his gaze where is a small white box.  Enjolras notices that I noticed and looks back at me and he looks somewhat sorry. "You understand you need to be sober this year, right?"   
  
So that's what the small white box is. "No." I answer immediately. "I am not taking that stuff." I'd rather go back in the arena than take that pills. I tried them once: they almost killed me, and I spent days in my bed too weak for anything.  
  
"Grantaire." Enjolras can put all his best begging tone in just my name and if I wasn't so pissed off I would enjoy the moment.   
  
"Enjolras." I snap back. "You are asking me to take a drug that will keep me sober for twelve hours and will -eventually- not making me feel the need to drink -or so it's written on the box-. We know it doesn't work on me." I hate all these medicines that London creates, because they are nothing than a new addiction to erase an old -and more healthy- one. Medicines are another way to enslave a human being, because if you need them, you will do anything to have them. And trust me: London makes pharmaceutical products to be addictive.   
  
"Just few days, okay?" Enjolras takes the box and offer it to me. "You can go back drinking as much as you want when we'll be back in Paris, you have my word."  
  
 I refuse the pills slapping his hand away from me. "Why don't you try to trust me for once? I can be sober if I want to."   
  
I am glad he doesn't laugh, because for sure I'd laugh at myself if the moment was so serious.   
  
We both know I can't be sober for more than few hours and we both know that London is full of temptation.   
  
"Just to be sure." he insists with patience.  
  
 I close my hands into fist and I let the finger digs into the palms, trying to control the impulse of punching him in the face. Really, sometimes he deserve it, because having that pretty face doesn't mean he can have such humiliating ideas.   
  
"No." I say again. "What if i drink by error while I have that stuff in my blood?"  
  
 He looks down, knowing the answer. Yeah, the drug keep you sober for hours, but it becomes poison if added to wine or brandy or every other kind of alcohol that I like.  
  
 "You wouldn't, that's the point in the medicine." Enjolras sighs. "It stops you from drinking..."   
  
"Because if you do, you die!" I really hope that my shout is not heard from Fantine, because I don't need her to come and try to make us settle everything down.   
  
"You will not drink." Enjolras says coldly. He put the box in my open hands and close my fingers around it. "I know you will not, I now you can. Everything will be alright."   
  
"You have too much faith in me." my laugh is bitter and half of it is knocked in my throat.   
  
"I know you will not risk you own life." I am not sure if he means it as an accusation or as a good thing actually. "The pills are only extra assurance, don't take it personally." he presses the box a little, just to remind me that it's there.   
  
I want to punch him, I really want to, kick him out of the room and drink until the Games are over, but he looks at me with honesty in his eyes... And that look would be enough to convince me to jump in the flames for him.   
  
"Fine." I shake my head as I said it. "But do me a favor, Enjolras: think better of me when we are back in Paris."  
  
Of course he doesn't go away, my word is not enough for him, not in a moment like this. I sigh and take one pill, making clear that I actually swallowed it.  
  
It's a such a shame that I have all his attention in this occasion and not when I actually want it.   
  
He doesn't say anything, he just leave the room and I follow him.   
  
Fantine is wearing a pompous purple dress and a lot of makeup and she's taking care of our two tributes, who look like they are going to faint there.   
  
The look on our hostess' face makes me realize that she heard me shout earlier and since I am sober I feel a rush of embarrassment that force me to look away from her.   
  
"We are already late." Fantine says softly, her hands reassuring resting on Gavroche and Eponine's shoulders.   
  
I am not going to say out loud that is my fault, not in this life.   
  
"I know." Enjolras nods. "Lucky that we are just under the roof." I look at him spotting some kind of humor that's so foreign coming from him.   
  
"Fantine says you will not come with us?" Gavroche asks because let's face it, he's the only one who gives a damn about this story and don't think too much about how dead they already are.   
  
"No, we'll stay here, you have to go alone, sorry." Enjolras answers simply.   
  
"So this is a goodbye?" Gavroche sounds definitely sad as he looks at us.  
  
"Any last-minute advice?" Eponine asks and she's not sad. I think that she's wild, almost ready to kill. Well, she always is, after all.   
  
"Yes." Enjolras inhales and raises his chin. "Remember this: it's kill or be killed." he speaks with the voice of a general.   
  
Eponine nods ad Gavroche does nothing. I am not sure they understand completely how true are Enjolras' words.   
  
"There is no other options. You can hide to buy some time, but it will not be enough to survive. Do whatever you have to do, even if you don't want do it." Enjolras adds, because that man can't really speaks with short phrases.   
  
One second later, Eponine's gaze is upon me, heavy with conversation I carefully avoided in the previous days and I can't avoid anymore. I remember the faces of all the tributes of the past years, I remember their voices and a part of me -no, not just a part, my whole self- believes that, somehow, I killed them, but Eponine?   
  
Eponine is my friend. I look at her and I see the little girl who used to pull my hair, the girl who used to run around Paris consuming her shoes even if she couldn't afford a new pair. I see the young women who helped me thought too many hangovers, I see the young woman who too often cried in my room because she had no other place where she could be weak.   
  
"What about you, nothing to say?"   
  
I have a lot to say, but I can't decide where to start and all my thoughts become a incredible mess.   
  
"They will have no pity for you, they will enjoy trying to kill you, so...expect the worst you can image."   
  
And that's probably why I don't give advice.   
  
"You are a cheery one." Fantine comments blinking slowly.   
  
"Indeed he is." Enjolras looks at me annoyed, I shrugs.   
  
Eponine moves towards me and she hugs me, just like she did when first we arrived in London. Eponine doesn't show affection commonly, there is something cold about her embrace. She kisses my cheek and then whisper right to my ear. "I don't want your sponsors, understood? Get Gavroche out of that arena, not me. Promise."   
  
"I can't." I reply softly, forcing myself not to look at Enjolras in this moment, because it will ruin everything and If I want to be a good mentor I have to be objective. I can't let a girl tell me how to do my job, even if she's my best friend.   
  
She looks at me with a desperate look for a second, then she goes back to her normal self and I am glad I've avoided this conversation for so long.  
  
"Hey monkey." I call the young boy and ruffling his hair. "Listen to me: don't let anyone tell you that you can't win because you are young, okay? I was not so much older than you when I won."   
  
For once I said the right thing, because Gavroche gives me his best smile. "I'll show them what little people can do!"   
  
I smile too. "Bravo little Gavroche, as always you're at the top of the class."   
  
And then it's time to move as Fantine reminds us. She escorts the tributes out and I wait for the to be out of the door to follow them.   
  
Suddenly Enjolras' hands is gently around my arm; he's even almost smiling at me. "See? This is why I like you more when you are sober."   
  
It's new to me, hearing Enjolras saying something rather nice about me, and it makes me happy -it's a simple words maybe, but it's the easiest way to describe how I feel- and for a moment I just look at him in disbelief.   
  
Then I hear the words for what they really are. I am accepted now that I am not myself, he likes someone I am not.   
  
His words aren't supposed to hurt, probably, but they hurt.  
  
 A lot.

* * *

 

When we first see the arena, we both know we are not going to get one of the kids out of that damn place.  
  
No, the odds are not in our favor.   
  
This years the game makes were probably too busy fucking around London to elaborate a project.   
  
The arena is a field of rocks, with some sparse black trees in the north-west section, and a the side of a Mountain that cannot be climbed to the east.   
  
I regret taking the damn pills when the bloodbath starts. At least, the red add some color to the grey of the landscape.   
  
It's horrible and I would only drink and drink until I can forget the dead eyes of the kids.   
  
But I can’t and so I watch.  
  
I watch as Eponine and Gavroche run away with nothing if not a backpack while the careers tributes fight for food and weapons.   
  
We watch for one hour as Eponine and Gavroche reach for the black trees zone.   
  
"So, which one?" Enjolras asks crossing his arms over his chest.   
  
"I don't know." I replies with honesty. They could both make it alive, they could both die in few minutes.  
  
"Grantaire." Enjolras knows better than me that we don't have time to waste on this, they could need anything in just few minutes.   
  
I run a hand over my face. "Eponine." I whispers and I feel like I could throw up because giving up on a thirteen years old boy is low even for me.   
  
"As I thought." Enjolras comments with a kind of hesitation that somehow makes me feel better.   
  
We watch another two hours as they find a precipice and a waterfall and they try to find a path to get down. They eventually did when it's almost night.   
  
When the days is over and both kids are alive I feel like I've been blessed.  
  
"Search Fantine." Enjolras orders. "See if someone wants to bet on Eponine, better be ready. I don't like this arena."   
  
"I don't like any arena." I comment absent-minded. "Why do I have to search for Fantine, now?"   
  
"Because she knows how to deal with capitol citizens better than you." he looks at me and frowns. "And before you complain, no, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because it's a hard job."   
  
"Fine." I don't have to ask him if he's coming or not, he's obvious that he has better thing to do than acting like a fool between people who doesn't care.  
  
 "Good luck." he adds while I am leaving.   
  
To be honest, all the sponsors I find are convinced by Fantine, not by my shaking fake smile or the disappointment in my face.   
  
It's not enough, anyway, it will not be enough to save the kids, but it's only the first day, there is things we still can do.

* * *

 

When I go back to our apartment with Fantine, Enjolras is nowhere to be seen, even if it's almost midnight.  
  
No, I don't want to know what he's doing, because whatever is it, knowing even a word of it could make me kill. Hell, they could torture me just because they think I know something.   
  
I need a drink.   
  
Instead I take another pill and Fantine looks at me with pity as I do so.   
  
"You can stay sober without it, you know?" she says so gently eating a chocolate bon-bon sitting on the couch, her shoes already tossed aside.   
  
"No, I can't." I reply sharply. "Not anymore and Enjolras knows it."   
  
"You think he knows you better than any other, don't you?" she licks the traces of melted chocolate from her fingers. "He does not, Grantaire. You know yourself better than anyone else, don't listen to him all the time. You have a great heart, follow it."   
  
The sound that come out of my mouth is a strangled bitter laugh. "That's the problem Fantine, I am following it."   
  
She sighs and shakes her head. "You know it's not mutual.”  
  
"Yes, thank you, I am very aware of it." I shouldn't sound so annoyed probably, not to her, it's not polite and she's only telling me the truth.   
  
Even if I don't completely believe what she's saying, because there is a lot of moment between me and Enjolras that I can't decode. "Goodnight, Fantine."   
  
"Goodnight." she replies with a defeated sigh.   
  
I bet she's thinking that I will never change and that I am a lost cause.   
  
It's okay, I think that too.  


* * *

 

When it's 3 am and I can't sleep I suddenly realize that Enjolras is not back and I understand why he had dark circles under his eyes.   
  
When you are sober, you pay attention to too many details.   
  
I hate it.

* * *

 

Eponine and Gavroche survive ten tributes and Eponine manages to kill even one on the fourth day.   
  
The first kill is always the hardest, I will never deny it, and Eponine kills the Greek tribute almost by error with her little knife held in her hands and a horrified look on her face, Gavroche hidden behind her.   
  
When you kill someone in the arena it happens something very peculiar: after the shock, you realize that, after all, killing an human being is not that hard and you feel triumphant because you understand that you can do it, you can kill to survive, but then you realize that you are as fragile as the person you just killed and that makes you fear for your life even more.   
  
And that's the way that London makes the tributes become nothing more than animal.   
  
Eponine is a smart girl, and from the look on her face on our monitors, I can tell she understands perfectly her situation. They run, trying to avoid other tributes and survives.  


Eponine dies first.   
  
The German male tribute find them and, before Gavroche can hit him on the head and kick him unconscious with his slingshot, he has the time to stab Eponine.   
  
I look at Enjolras with a question in my face, he looks at me with a clear answer and I remain in my place, next to him, watching as Eponine takes Gavroche's hands and they are on the run again.   
  
She's in pain, it's obvious on her face, she's trying to stop the blood pressing one hand on her side over the wound, but it doesn't help very much.   
  
Gavroche is worried, but he makes no question, he's the one who is guiding them now, and sometimes I can see him looking up, in the sky, searching for something :a silver parachute that will never come.   
  
After few minutes Eponine is forced to stop, with her breath short and without color on her face.  
  
"Gavroche." she pulls his brother near her and looks at him with a small smile that probably is costing her the last energy. "You have to go, leave me here, do you understand?"   
  
"No!" Gavroche replies shaking his head. "I'm not leaving you, we decided that we were going to do this together!"   
  
London is streaming this moment in whole Europe and I know that a lot of people are crying in front of their televisions for the girl who only wanted to keep her little brother safe.   
  
"I know." Eponine replies softly, too damn softly. "But I can't run anymore and I don't want to slow you down."   
  
"But 'Ponine!" Gavroche begs. "What am I supposed to do alone?"   
  
"Run, hide, survive and win." Eponine lists gently. She gives the knife to her brother -a better weapon can do the difference-. "I am sorry, Gavroche."   
  
"You will be okay?" Gavroche asks, but his voice trembles and it's clear he knows what's going to happen.  
  
Eponine caress his cheek with the clean hand. "Go Gavroche, I don't want you to see me die."   
  
The little kid is really strong because he doesn't flinch at the direct words.   
  
The close up on his face on the monitors shows his teary eyes and the way he's struggling not to cry. It's cruel.   
  
He tries to say something, but Eponine pushes him away. "Go!" she insist and Gavroche turn his back to her sister and run away.   
  
When she's alone, Eponine starts to cry and I leave the room as quickly as I can.  
  
 Enjolras doesn't stop me.

 

* * *

 

 

Gavroche manages to live another day, we send him some bread to let him know we are still here, but he dies too.   
  
The male Spanish tribute and the female Scandinavian tribute spot Gavroche between the rocks and the hunt starts.   
  
They are a pair of gods: he's Ares, with his dark curls and dark eyes, ready to kill with his spear; and she's Artemis with her bow in her hand and the beauty that can only be found in paintings.   
  
"Come on, France, come out!" shouts Ares with a rage."We know you are here."   
  
Artemis signs to his partner to check in one direction as she goes to the other. The arrow is already in place, her sense are ready.   
  
"We saw your sister's photo last night, so you are alone." Ares keeps on. "Don't make us waste energy! You are already dead, let's not waste time!"  
  
 It's clear that Artemis doesn't like Ares' behavior, so she sighs and chose another approach. "Hey, little boy!" she calls, her voice is really soft which is really odd. "Let's make a deal: if you come out now I promise we will make your death a quick one, no pain or suffering. It's a great opportunity considering where we are, take it."   
  
The fact that is true doesn't help me feeling any better, to be honest.   
  
Gavroche, anyway, he's too stubborn to give up, he's a natural fighter just like his sister was. He picks up a rock and throw it at Artemis, which lose the grip on her arrow taken by surprise.   
  
Ares is not surprised and his spear passes through Gavroche's stomach.   
  
Gavroche dies almost immediately, falling face front on the field, his eyes still open but deprived of any trace of life.  
  
Then something glorious happens.   
  
Artemis raises her bow, takes the aim, and shot Ares without a second thinking.   
  
That's when I am sure she's going to win, because she knows that it's better not to trust the Spanish.   
She left quickly after the kill and for a moment Enjolras and I stare at Gavroche's body and like every year we come to the conclusion that we are absolutely useless.   
  
Enjolras' bows his head and for a moment he can't block away the pain from his face.   
  
We tried not to think about Gavroche's age, we really tried, because it was easier, but now we are back to reality and there is a thirteen years old boy lying dead on a grey field and his blood is pairing it in red.   
  
I take Enjolras' hand in mine, and he hold it tightly until he's not able to recompose himself.   
  
Well, even this year we managed to kill two young kids, we should be really proud of ourselves.

 

* * *

 

When the day is over, we all hid in our apartment to mourn Eponine and Gavroche.   
  
Fantine excuses herself and lock herself in her room; we can hear her crying, but we're not going to say anything about that because the truth is that we feel the same, we are just too empty to cry anymore.  
  
Enjolras can't stop walking around the place, even if he does it slowly, in order to not disturb whatever is going on in our brains.   
  
I just sit on the couch and focus on breathing, trying to ignore the ache in my chest and the flashbacks.  
  
I will miss burst out in a song with Eponine because we are too drunk.  
  
I will miss waking up with Gavroche searching for money in my house.   
  
Enjolras touches my shoulder taking me away from my thoughts and from the concern on his face he did it because I was totally out of focus.   
  
"Here." he offers me a glass of brandy and I look at him confused. "I know you stopped taking the pills, I am not an idiot. I see how you are struggling to stay sober." he explain simply, his voice calm and steady.  
  
 _Touché._ Never realized he knew I stopped taking them on the third day.   
  
"Thanks." I take the glass with my right hand. I really hope that drinking will make the pain go away like always.   
  
He sits with me and the concern doesn't leave his face. It's not an expression that fits him, not really:  his face is made to show confidence, dignity, authority, not so much concern. He's also tired.   
  
"How are you feeling?" The question shouldn't take me so much by surprise.  
  
“I’ll live.” I answer simply. “I always do, don’t I?”  
  
“It’s not an answer.” Enjolras protests.   
  
“What do you want me to say?” I sigh and I finish my glass in one gulp. It’s comforting, the taste of brandy and the sensation it leaves on my tongue.  
  
“Just the truth.”   
  
I look at him feeling more than mocked, but what I see on his face is a real interest, a real worry and I just shake my head. “Let it be, Enjolras. They are not the first kid that died and they will not be the last. No need to talk about it now.”  
  
He’s going to protest again, but he just stand up passing a hand trough his blond hair. “Just…don’t drink too much, you still have some substance from the pill in your blood.”  
  
I laugh. “I still don’t need a baby sitter.”  
  
“Yes, you definitely do.” Enjolras says serious. He straights his red jacket and the look of concern leave his face and he’s back to his confident self.   
  
“You are going somewhere?” I ask confused.  
  
“Yes, there are things that need to be settled down and quickly. Plus…” he hesitates. “Eponine and Gavroche’s deaths could convince few people to join us, I need to take advantage of the situation.”   
  
I should probably remind him that Gavroche died just few hours ago, but I understand how things like this work.  
  
“I will not let die in vain, I will not permit that.” Enjolras adds firmly. He squeeze my should one last time.   
  
“No other kids will die, Grantaire, we are close to our goal...”  
  
“Too much information, Enjolras. Don’t tell me anything else, I will not keep your secrets if my life is at risk.”  
  
Maybe it’s not the thing he wanted to hear. He looks at me, I look at him, and again I dumbly believe he’s going to kiss me.  
  
I am starting imagine things even sober, it’s not a good sign.  
  
“This will end.” He says. “You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”  
  
I don’t detect the use of the plural until he’s out of the flat.   
  
But can we? Can we be fine? After all the years ? After all the deaths? After all the horrible things happened to us? Can we be fine ?  
  
I wish we can, but I don’t believe.  
  
We can’t.  
  
I can’t.  
  
Funny, it’s also the last thing I said to Eponine.  
  
I start to cry and I stop only when I fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Clearly, Gavroche's death is a homage to Rue's since he died in the same way and he tribute killing him, died as the kid who killed Rue. Because Gavroche and Rue...I mean, parallels
> 
> 2: Grantaire's pills...well, I made them up, like it or not, because I needed the scene to show the dynamic between Enjolras and Grantaire. And yes, there is a quote from The Return of the King. Yeah, I love Faramir and it fit perfectly.
> 
> 3: Shorts Games, I know, but I have my reasons.
> 
> 4: Next chapter will be a big Jehan/Montparnasse moment, I apologize from now.
> 
> For anything, you can always find me at drunkpylades on tumblr!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I took some liberty in this, of course.  
> Since I didn't want to make the arena full of kids, Europe is divided in 12 countries as well (you can presume during the rebellion some countries were united in a bigger one).  
> I know Cosette, since she's the Mayor's daughter shouldn't be there, but close an eye on it, please.  
> As said in the tags: Eponine and Gavroche are the tributes for France, Enjolras and Grantaire are the mentors and Fantine is the escort.  
> Javert happens to be the President of England because of reasons (and because I need someone who could be perceived as a villain but it's not.)
> 
> Don't expect the Games to be long (sorry, they will be in ust one chapter and poorly written) because I care a little more about the revolution.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


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